Shadow's Roadhouse of Pain
by Genesis.BlazingShadow
Summary: Several Sonic Characters, some hole in Rural America, and a jukebox. Add in Shadow the Hedgehog, some slaughter and suggestive humor, and you have a story!
1. Enter the Emo

Shadow slipped a coin into the slim, narrow, silver slot and searched the listing for a somewhat swanky, somehow serious song. The pickings were slim, it seemed, because the jukebox was stuffed with obscure, unheard of artists probably from another era.

The first song he played was a little too bubblegummy, something about a garden. The bar crowd immediately demanded that the hedgehog "Turned that shit right the fuck off". The next song he chose, the title was rather simple yet it resonated deeply with the ebony anti-hero; "Giving Ground".

Now, it was hard to label this song, but if the hedgehog had to place it in a genre, it would be a hard choice between Techno, Electronic, or Rock. He didn't usually care for music, he never did, but tonight was a special occasion for him.

"What you have lost can never be found  
Words are just dust in deserts of sound  
Everything is lost and your choice lies broken  
And the truth is drowned"

As the lyrics pounded heavily into Shadow's skull, tears began to well up in his eyes. "Why, God?" he mumbled to himself.

The bar crowd began grumbling about the unfitting beat, the beat padded with too much keyboard and not enough "hillbilly" for their tastes.

"Whatcha cryin' about?" shouted one bar patron sitting in a nearby booth to Shadow's left.

"Boyfriend leave yeh?" another patron jabbed, evoking a bout of laughter from the rest of the crowd.

"Now I know you will not see  
The madness we have seen  
Now I know you cannot be  
All that your fright has been"

"How fitting," Shadow mumbled to himself as he turned to the antagonizing patrons and began fidgeting with something stowed away between his quills.

"Gonna take that stick outta yer ass, boy?" mocked the man in the booth.

Shadow let loose a brief chuckle before resting his hand on the jukebox. "No, no I'm not."

"Ah, I see, just adjustin' that stick to it's a lil' more comfurrable, eh?" the same patron retorted before letting out a laugh only a hillbilly could, that unforgettable "Heheheh!" they do that makes you just want to pry their spinal cord out of their backs with a blunt crowbar.

"Everything is lost in the giving ground  
Everything is lost"

"Boy, why don't you turn that euro-fag shit off and go home, you look like hell!" the hick in the booth continued.

"Heh," Shadow pulled a gun and turned it toward the annoying southerner in the booth,"Straight to hell."

"Hey, man, it's just a song," the yellow booth patron now became rather worried for his own personal safety, for obvious reasons. "I'm ain't mean nuthin' by it!"

Oh, the adrenalin rush, the unmistakable sensation of power he got whenever he held a gun to some deserving fool's head. To make the situation even sweeter, the silly hick had practically soiled himself in front of Shadow.

"If y'all have such a problem with this "Euro-fag" music," Shadow did his best to immitate and mock the hillbilly patrons in the bar," then why's it on your jukebox?"

Shadow the Hedgehog, G.U.N. Agent, savior of Earth, one of the world's greatest scientistific experiments, had been reduced to this; a life of unnecessary late night bar fights somewhere in the god-forsaken land they called "Rural America".

"Hey, man," said someone to the right of the jukebox, behind Shadow,"Why don'tcha just leave'n'never come back?"

The hedgehog turned to see a slightly overweight bartender twelve-gauge shotgun in hand and the barrel staring Shadow in the face.

Shadow smirked. "Big mistake."


	2. Mean, Green and Totally Seen

_Rape, murder!_

_It's just a shot away, it's just a shot away! _

Scourge scuttled straight for the door. He had no intention of being caught by anyone outside for the time being. Evading your date with death and the hangman's noose does that to you. Yes, several months previous, Scourge was captured, by Sonic no less, and convicted of over twenty acts of murder, war crimes and so on. The first four murders got him the chair. The three murders after that earned him a lethal injection. It was, however, the counts of treason that he would die for by a short drop hanging.

Although, this is Scourge the Hedgehog we're talking about. Scourge. As in evil Sonic. As in has Sonic's power. Do you really think any amount of petty and insignificant "hoo-mans" could keep him in a cell for long?

The green hedgehog was missing his signature leather jacket. When he broke out of federal prison he had neither the time nor the patience to grab his personal effects, but that was all right. It was perfect, in fact. Scourge knew two things: everyone expected him to be dead come morning, and no one would find out about his escape until such time.

He had only stopped by this shanty because he heard gunfire out in the distance, and thought maybe he could scrounge up a couple necessities for the road. What he found instead once he entered the roadhouse was a familiar 'Stones tune and a very pissed off black hedgehog behind the bar counter.

"Funny seeing you here, Shadow," Scourge snickered as he swaggered past the bar to a dead body lying face down in the booth. The dead man's jacket had caught his eye. Shadow focused his peripheral vision on Scourge as he continued about his own business behind the bar counter. The green hedgehog, hedgehog del verde for our Spanish speaking readers, proceeded to strip the dead man of his leather jacket, which was still in great shape with no blood or bullet holes. "Perfect fit," he said, speaking towards Shadow.

"You're supposed to die tonight," the ebony hedgehog dictated grimly.

"And you're not supposed to kill innocents since you went soft," Scourge chuckled.

"What do you want," Shadow asked in a passive aggressive tone, suppressing his anger by concentrating on the task at hand. Although his frustration was directed at polishing all the grime off a firearm, anything at any moment could set off the black hedgehog; drive him to murder. Well, murder some more, anyways.

Scourge thought for a moment before answering: "Something to eat."

It's true, Scourge was hungry; they don't feed you well in prison. Not in this state at any rate. Scourge stepped up to the bar and tapped on the counter top, pretending as if Shadow was the bartender of this "bloody" establishment. The dark one glared at him before setting down a dingy rag in his right hand and reaching underneath the counter, opening the minifridge and chucking a sandwich at Scourge.

With skilled hands, the green one easily caught the slung sustenance in one hand and felt around his jacket with the other.

A-ha! Something heavy, clunky and rigidly defined rested in the jacket's inner pocket.

Shadow judged the facial expression on Scourge the hedgehog and had a good idea of what the object in his jacket might be. Swiftly, silently, before the green one reached for the object, Shadow took a firm grip on the '45 in his left hand.

Not even a moment passed before they pointed firearms at each other. Shadow held a Colt .45 pistol just slightly above the patron countertop while Scourge held a 9mm Beretta to Shadow's head.

"You should play nice, Shadow," mocked Scourge, cocking the hammer as he tightened his grip.

"Make my day."

The dark one needed only to nod in order to signal Scourge's attention to his hand, and that moment was all that was needed to move just centimeters to the side and twist the green one's firearm away while smashing the tip of his pistol into Scourge's face. The green one yelped in surprise as he fell back onto the floor. Once he regained his composure, Scourge looked up only to see two barrels staring him in the face.

Scourge snickered again. "Think you can hit me, big boy?"

"One way to find out," Shadow replied, cocking the hammer on his Colt with every intention of ripping a few holes into the green one's battle-scarred chest.

Perhaps it was convenience or perhaps it was providence, but either way, the front door creaked open again and both hedgehogs switched their attention to a police officer entering the room. Needless to say, the officer wasn't going to live past the next few seconds.


End file.
